||[Oct. 14th, 2006|10:05 pm]
My last entry was about taking Husband to the ER. Now I'd like to put him in one.
In August, off he went to a mock Medieval war encampment in Pennsylvania (Pennsic for those of you who speak SCA). He had such a grand time that being married is suddenly the worst possible fate that could befall him. His new girlfriend/lover/soul-mate agrees.
So, at 51, with two dogs and my 83 year old mother Maggie in tow, I am moving to the mid-west and starting all over. I am in shock because I never saw this coming. But there is a valuable lesson here that I should have learned at 4 or 5 years of age: NEVER change who you are or compromise your beliefs just so the cool kids will like you. They won't like you, they won't respect you and you eventually won't respect yourself either.
We moved every 2 to 4 years with the military while we were together (14 years) and this was supposed to be our home for the next 10 to 15 years. I planted roses and bittersweet to climb up the porch, Star Magnolias (only 8 inches high) in the backyard; we were settling in for the long haul. Now I'm digging up the roses (he thinks they will be too much trouble to take care of) and I pulled up the magnolias and tossed them. He plans to live in the basement and rent out the upstairs to college kids. His emotional peers.
I am rapidly discovering how much of my autonomy I relinquished. I don't have the phone numbers or addresses of our mutual friends, I have no credit in my own name - I lived like a 1950's bubble headed space cadet. Maybe the therapist I started seeing can help me figure out why I did that.
My ex will be thrilled of course - he had to wait 14 years for the I-told-you-so to kick in but it has.
Damn, this really sucks.